© Sadie Rose Bermingham 2008
The usual terms and conditions apply. This is My Underwear. Don't steal it. Don't wear it. Don't post it to your website without my permission. You can sniff at it if you must but when I catch you, you WILL be severely punished! Enjoy... xxx Sadie.
*
Kevan did not ring at all the next day. He did not call around to the flat and he made no apparent effort to send a message. In his absence Rayne slept - quite literally like the dead - when he was not checking his mobile or his answering machine, that is. At 2.33 in the afternoon he drank two pints of cold water and listened to the mechanical voice intoning; "You have no messages" for the fifth time that day.
The Vampire wrapped the telephone cord around the fingers of his left hand and yanked it out of the socket. Then he threw the whole contraption across the room and watched it disintegrate against the far wall.
"Don't need a fuckin' ansaphone anyway!" he muttered to himself caustically. "Don't need 'any' of this crap!"
He went back to bed and curled up under the crumpled duvet cover where he bit down on the knuckle at the base of his left thumb and sucked gently on the watery spill of his own blood. It was comforting but it did not create sufficient distraction to take his mind off the events of last night.
"Should have banged their fuckin' heads together and drained the murdering bastard!" he grumbled under his breath. "Stupid Cops! Stupid fuckin' muppets!"
Restless and angry, he rolled onto his back, kicking off the covers and staring at the ceiling, watching it swim and blur, then blinking his eyes furiously to clear them. It had been ages since he had felt normal and human. After the nightmares of London - the pain of losing so much that was important to him - Rayne had closed the doors on any kind of relationship. Gradually, the warning that Jabez had once given him was sinking in. It was true. He would lose the people he cared about one by one. Either he would alienate them by exposing them to the truth or he would have to cut them out of his life altogether. He was in his forties now and he still looked like a young man. His features would not change. And those who knew him best would begin to notice it. They had 'already' begun to notice.
Worse still than that; he would have to watch them die. It had started to happen, all too soon. Rayne was no stranger to death; it had haunted him from the womb but to watch people he had grown up around slowly wither and fade was agony when he knew that he could not halt it and would never share their fate.
It was why he had come here, to Manchester where hardly anyone knew him. He was lonely for much of the time but it was better than hurting.
"So why'd you do it?" he groaned rhetorically, throwing his forearm across his eyes to shut out the light. "Why'd you let Kevan in like that? Why the fuck did you let him get under your skin so badly?"
He could not answer that question. For months he had been telling himself that he felt sorry for Kev; that he hated to see the man lonely and wanted to help him. Like Rayne, Kevan had been cut out of the picture of his own life; forcibly ejected from the warmth and unity of his family. The vampire knew how that felt; he could empathise. It felt good to have something in common with someone normal and human. Well... someone 'human' anyway! When he was with Kevan, for a little while he could be normal too.
And when Rayne was 'not' normal, Kevan somehow managed not to be totally freaked out by it. Or at least he had managed until last night.
Kev never minded feeding him, but that was a controlled interaction. It was gentle and sanitised; a game of give and take. They had made it a part of their lovemaking and Rayne knew that his mate enjoyed giving of himself. Somehow Kev still managed to convince himself that he could make Rayne stop. Until the other day he had never seen his lover bite a human being in anger. Now he knew the truth, and the truth had not been pretty. It rarely was!
In the end Rayne threw himself out of bed and showered again, then dressed and went for a walk. He could not hide away in his eyrie like Count Dracula. There were practicalities to consider. No one was going to deliver fresh virgins to his door so he would have to find sustenance if he did not want to become a total wreck. Brooding over Kevan Delaney was not going to feed him.
By the time he had washed and decided on his choice of wardrobe it was almost four thirty and the streets were in that grey hiatus between post-lunch shopping crowds and office-emptying, rush hour throng. Rayne was comfortable with that. It was a cool, damp, mid-May afternoon, which also lessened the impact of people on the streets. He could bide his time.
His mentor, Jabez was not an advocate of daylight feeding. The ancient Vampire considered it a risk not work the taking but Rayne had grown up in cities and he knew that there was a sub-strata that existed there even when the sun was shining and people were pretending not to have a care in the world. It was true that some Vampires would not walk in the daylight but often they were the older ones, cautious and stubborn; stuck in their ways. They had grown accustomed to using the night as a cloak to hide their proclivities. Rayne was a creature of an era where there were even clubs and societies for people who liked to pretend they were Vampires; places where they could meet and cut one another, licking up the blood. Hardly anyone was going to bat an eye, even if he took a bite out of someone right here on the street. The old rules no longer applied. Yes the sun could burn you; but for Rayne Wylde who had grown up with a complexion like fresh milk, this was nothing new. He was not going to frazzle to cinders just because the sun was shining. Although he might consider wearing a broad brimmed hat and a decent pair of shades!
(In the end, as it was overcast, he didn't bother with either!)
He wandered down Canal Street and up through Chinatown, taking his time. The smells already emanating from the myriad restaurants in the Chinese Quarter were enough to make his mouth water on their own. He adored oriental cuisine. Even though ordinary food had little benefit for him now, he still loved the flavours and the sweet, sharp, spicy aromas from the countless kitchens, cook-shops and takeaways on his meandering route. There was something so bright and optimistic about Manchester's Chinatown, even set in this district of towering industrial factory and office buildings with their dark, looming facades and high, narrow windows. A coloured banner fluttered here and over there a ceremonial archway broke the gloom. There were neon strips and coloured hoardings all lovingly decorated with flowers and delicate golden Chinese script. As darkness came on and the lights began to shine it sometimes felt as if a festival was about to take place. Rayne was constantly expecting to turn a corner and find a Chinese dragon dancing on the street whilst brightly clad waiters and shopkeepers played discordant, enthusiastic horns and pounded on drums and cymbals. The rhythm of the area made him want to dance.
